It's A Lot Like Romeo And Juliet
by Tawnyblood
Summary: "For never was a story of more woe than this of Matthew and his Gilbert… O. Sorry, I needed it to match."
1. Prologue

_AN: Ha ha! I'm back with another chapter story~ Based on the tragic tale of Romeo and Juliet with a few twists in it though I would consider this story a Shakespearen tragedy. I recommend reading this with the screen at 3/4 or on 1/2. It makes it look 'fuller.' 8D Tomorrow's my birthday and I'll be spamming the PruCan fanclub on deviantArt with couple art as a means of celebrating so... watch out for that. No seriously... if you're watching that club... don't get mad at the sheer number of shit I'll be posting.  
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It was a dark and musty room, resembling more of an abandoned attic than the office it really was. The dust swirled around in a simple airborne dance, barely illuminated by the single lamp sitting on the old roll top desk. Stacks of letters, some opened and others not, laid discarded by the foot of the table. Each stack was completely covered by a single towel that kept the dust by attaching onto them. Cobwebs decorated the corners of the room and bugs skittered away into the dark as the door opened with oiled ease, spilling light into the room.

An aging man stepped into the room, dulling emerald eyes adjusting to the light of the room before going deeper in. He headed for the only window in the room, furiously patting away the dust that gathered on the red, white, and blue curtains before tugging it back, smiling as the sun's warm rays hit his face. He unhooked the hinges and pushed open the twin frames with a loud grunt. He rested his elbows on the window sill, taking in deep breathes of the fresh air, relishing the nice breeze the day carried.

He then left his spot, moving to the side, rough fingers tugging nervously at his shirt collar. His other hands rose to tenderly tap the metal handle and his fingertips trailed against the delicate carvings, his lips pulling into a straight line. He slipped the key into its slot, twisting it to the side before slowly tugging out the storage container. His face paled at the sheer number of letters and he wiped at his eyes. The letters seemed to have multiplied when he opened up his eyes again. "Oh what the… bloody hell, I wasn't gone _that_ long." Arthur's eyes raised up to survey the room, second thoughts coming to his mind. "Okay, maybe I was gone that long…"

_Though it's not my fault I get emotional about this…_ Arthur thought to himself, a sharp twinge somewhere deep within his chest as he trudged over to the desk, the mailbox in his hand. He dumped the contents onto the desk, not bothering to pick up the letters that slopped onto the floor. The British man sat down and picked up his pencil, not noticing how it seemed to fit into his hand like that fairy wand he used to run around with as a child.

He picked up a random letter with a grumble, prying it open and his eyes quickly scanned the words. A smile was on his face by the time he finished reading it. "Well Miss…" His eyes drifted down to the signed signature. "Lisette… you want to know the real story of what caused this world's peace huh?" He mumbled to himself, a bright twinkle in his eyes as he opened a cabinet of the desk and grabbed a sheet of paper. "Well then… let me see if my memory serves me right…"

_|Dear Matthew,_

_The story of you and Gilbert is one of such woe and it pains me to know that it's all real. Though… I know what happens in the end, but what happens in the beginning? Everybody keeps telling me different things and you lived during that time so you know what really happened right? How did it all start? For never was a story of more woe than this of Matthew and his Gilbert… O. Sorry, I needed it to match._

_Sincerely,_

_Lisette|_

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_AN: Here's a bit of information about what the hell is going on in the prologue. In Verona, Italy (Which is where this story is not taking place...), there's a place called Juliet's Wall. Basically, you post letters on Juliet's Wall and the workers (referred to as Juliet's secretaries) gather them up and answer them. Where Arthur works is loosely based on that area. You deposit the mails into a mail slot and the workers get the letters that way instead of sticking it up on a wall. Same principle really... just different ways of getting the letters. C:  
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	2. Act One, Scene One

_AN: One chapter released whenever I have the next chapter half-way done. C: There's a crappy fight scene... just to let you know._

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"Ve~ Luddy… we're not going to let them humiliate us!" Italy piped up from his spot by Germany's side as the two walked down the street… holding hands. Something Germany was very against in the beginning, but somehow managed to succumb to. God, he was just putty for Feliciano. "We won't take their garbage!" The smaller man repeated underneath his breath, a delicate furrow in his brows as he looked up at Ludwig for reassurance. "We won't, right?"

All it took was a brief glance into Feliciano's eyes before he had to look away, a pale dusting of red on his cheek. "We won't, don't worry. We're not garbage men." He was suddenly very conscious of how sweaty his palms were getting. At least Feli didn't seem to notice… for whatever reason.

"Of course! Germany's here! If they get on our nerves we'll fight them!"

"We'll work on that… after you learn to keep your neck out of trouble." Images of England and France appeared in his mind, the time when they seemed to do some sort of tag team thing and kept hitting Italy with a stick. A stern frown was on his face the more he thought about what happened soon after he chased the two of them off. _I still don't understand what Bulgaria meant by 'Every time I see that look on his face, I want to hit him…'_ He looked to his side and looked back up again. _I see now._

"But I hit hard when I'm angry…"

"It's hard to make you angry." There was a pause as Germany looked over the words that just came out of his mouth. "Correction, I don't believe it's possible for you to be angry." Ah yes, that seemed to be more characteristically accurate.

A loud whine told Ludwig of Feliciano's displeasure and the grip on his large hands tightened. "That's not true." He stated, voice unusually soft. Brown eyes darted off to the side as a pout came to his face. "Somebody from the Allies can make me upset."

"Unless its China."

"That's not fair, Luddy! He never did anything bad to me!"

A hand cupped his chin as the thought about it. _Ah… that is true…_ "Well there's Russia. How about him?" He questioned, eyes still slightly narrowed in thought.

"Veeeee… It's hard to be upset at him!" He argued; swinging the hand intertwined with Germany's back and forth in a wild motion. "He's scary." This time Ludwig couldn't argue with the pasta-brained Italian. There was a moment of silence as Feliciano thought silently to himself, seemingly lost in thought. It honestly worried Ludwig a bit.

"_Italien_, are you oka—"

"Ve… Germany, is that an Allied member?" Germany pushed back the arm that was bound to come up to blatantly point at the enemies. One quick glance over in the general direction and he quickly ushered Italy behind a bush that was… conveniently there. He placed a finger against his own lip at Italy's puzzled expression. "Don't talk. I'll get rid of them."

"What! No! Germany!" He snapped, a look of total hurt on his tan face. A firm frown was on his face as he tugged the bulkier man into the bush with him, promptly wrapping his arms around Ludwig's arm. "I'm not letting you fight them by yourself! Either you run with me or I'll fight with you!" The subtle look of determination in the smaller man's face stopped Ludwig's mouth in its track. "Don't forget the pinky promise, Luddy! We're here for each other!"

"… Are you sure?"

"Ve! I'll back you up! I won't be Useless Italy!" Germany had a hard time believing those words for good reasons… But for some strange reason, he trusted Feliciano not to leave him in the middle of a fight. Well, _this_ fight in particular… though he has been wrong before. "Are you sure, _Italien_?"

"Don't worry about me!"

"No, really… I _am_ worried about you."

"I'll be fine!" Chirped the Italian, a bright smile wiping away the worried frown. "Uh…" _What was that gesture again? Oh wait! I remember now! Germany is so odd, why does this gesture mean number one?_ "Good luck Luddy!" And with that said, the Italian pushed his friend out of the bush and stumbling into the world. Germany barely caught a glimpse of the thumbs-up sticking out of the bush before he bumped into a broad chest.

Oh crap, it's RUSSIA.

"… Is he flipping me off?"

Germany looked behind him to see that Italy was now using two thumbs-up gestures. Oh double crackers. Damn cultural differences and the different meanings they carry.

Russia looked down at Germany, whose face was still connected to the bigger man's chest in his moment of stunned culture shock. The German immediately pulled away once he realized that those purple eyes were staring intently down at him and he coughed into his fist, blue eyes looking anywhere besides his ally and his enemy.

"I'll repeat, is he trying to pick a fight with me?"

"Start a fight with you?" Blue eyes darted over to the bush where Italy was still obliviously waving around the gesture. He felt like massaging the bridge of his nose again. Oh why was he stuck with that boy again? "No Ivan… I don't believe he's trying to start a fight."

And how wonderful was Feliciano's timing.

"Ve~ Go Ludwig! Go beat up the Allied Forces! You can do it! You're really strong and macho~ Go Axis! Axis Powers!"

"Ha ha~ Italy _is_ trying to pick a fight isn't he? Just for the record… Allied are better."

He was stuck between two options… either get away from a fight with Russia and bring shame to the Axis Powers name or fight Russia, possibly be beaten within an inch of his life, but walk (or crawl… or be dragged… either works really) away with pride in his team. _Dammit._ Blue eyes darted left to right, mind working hard to come up with some idea… some scheme. Where was his brother's war tactics when he needed them? Or his military intelligence? _Verdammt_.

"_Hola amigos! Como estas_?"

Oh yes, whoever is in the sky must really love him. Or at least pity him. Probably the later. The blonde fought back the urge to smirk as he watched the Spanish man bounce over to them, a look of utter carefree obliviousness on his face as to what was happening between Germany and Russia. "Russia… I hate to tell you this, but the Axis Powers are much stronger."

The small, but tense smile was still on Russia's face as he grounded out, "Is that so?"

Was he being an idiot by provoking _Russia_? Part of him thought so. "It is so."

"Ve~ Spain, are they going to fight?" Italy piped up from where he stood, not in the bush, but in clear view. He exchanged puzzled glances with Spain as the other two tear their gaze away from them. The grin on Russia's face grows and Germany finally allows his smirk to show. "They ask for a fight…" Germany starts. "And a fight we'll give them, _da_?" Russia finishes with a tip of his head.

A fist enclosed in a mitten suddenly lashed out, catching Germany right in the jaw and he stumbles away, shaking his head to clear the pain. "That was a dirty shot." He remarked, tenderly trailing his fingers on what is sure to be bruised skin as Russia smiles on. "Oh, I thought we were fighting alre—" Russia was cut off with a swift punch to his cheek and a yelp escapes his lip as he staggers away, swinging his head side to side to clear the shock of being punched. And then there was a hard punch right to his stomach and the next thing Germany knows is that he was thrown to the ground like a ragdoll by Russia.

A groan slips past his lips as struggles to get up, wincing when his back protested. Ludwig looks up to see Ivan staring down at him, his cheek a livid red from where he punched him and a hand clutching at his stomach. "Axis Powers are much stronger, _da_?" Ivan questioned, lips pulled back into a sneer. A foot stomped on the ground where Germany previously was and like a spring Germany was back on his feet. "Much stronger." Was his only reply before he slugged Ivan in the chest.

Spain watched on, his frown not so much of a frown than a grimace. He arms were folded across his chest, eyes taking in every shot taken and every comment thrown at each other. Honestly, it was like watching a punch of teenagers having a fistfight. There was no grace. "What the hell are they do—"

"Spain! Do something!" He cried, a few present and ready to fall from his eyes as he watched on in worry. "Germany's going to get hurt! Do something, please?" The neutral country was about to open his mouth to say a very firm 'no,' but god dammit he was putty towards the Italian duo. Curse those large chestnut-brown eyes that stare up at him imploringly…

A large grin split his face, one so large that it forced his eyes into narrow slits as he grinned at Feli before ruffling the auburn hair. "Don't worry! Big brother Spain will take care of everything!" Though one loud scream from… well, he wasn't too sure who screamed, but he knew that stopping this fight might be one of the last things he ever does.

Oh have mercy on him, whoever's in the sky.

Even if it's just a pilot, seriously, whoever's in the sky.

"Italia… tell Lovi that I love him okay? I'm going in." A deep breath and Spain attempted to get between the fight in a way that didn't embarrass him. Or mortally wounded him, either works really. He danced around the two bulkier man who were battling it out, trying to find some sort of opening…

OH! There's one right there!

And he jumped right in, elbowing Germany in the chest and Russia in the stomach as the two reached above his head to punch each other. Both men stumbled away, Italy dashing over to prop up his friend as Russia rubs at his stomach. "No more fighting! You're making Italia sad!" Antonio snapped, gesturing over to where Feliciano was fussing over Ludwig, tears in his eyes. "You don't know what you're doi—"

"Hey! Don't start a fight without the hero!" All four men looked in the direction of the voice, everybody's face falling with the exception of Russia's absolute look of delight. There was America, the young muscle head, slurping up the rest of his soda before dumping it into the trash. "Antonio~ Hey-o! I thought you were neutral! What are you doing fighting for the Axis!"

"I'm only trying to keep the peace."

"Oh, that's goo—Wait. That's the hero's job! What are you doing taking an American's job!"

"Is this about the immigration thing again?"

"Oh shuddap! You-You… job stealing non-American!"

"I was legal!" There was a pause before Spain added, "And you have the wrong country!"

The two men stare at each other, eyes narrowing even more with each passing minute. The other males all exchange blank looks, unsure of what to do. Russia's light violet eyes trail around the place, humming a song inside his head as Spain and America suddenly explode into bickering which then caused Italy to freak out and cling onto Germany which in turn caused him to become flustered and try to pry Feli off to no avail. The sheer noise caused by the group (mostly America though…) soon caused most of the citizens to storm out, yelling about the 'peace' and that 'nobody in their right mind would be making this much noise at three in the morning.'

Ludwig wonders why he was on a walk with Feli at two-thirty in the morning in the first place.

No, really… why?

With all the noise going through one ear and out the other, he didn't even hear another nation approaching the mob until a loud _bang!_ rang out throughout the crowd. All mouths quieted and all eyes turned around to look at their peacekeeper in his pajamas still. His harsh green eyes scanned the crowd before resting on the cause of all the troubles.

"Is it so hard to keep the peace!" Vash snapped out, his voice booming. "I am so sick of you guys' fight!" A slipper clad foot stomped on the ground and Germany suddenly realized that Switzerland is probably the only nation on the face of the planet (besides Russia, but he doesn't count) that could be wearing something like _that_ and still intimidate people. It takes a lot of skills.

"This is getting out of hand! Three riots in one week! One week! Keep your hands to yourself—And tell that to France especially. If you guys can't do that than you'll pay for the peace with your lives." Vash snapped, eyes skipping over the figure of America trying to keep in his laughter at the warning directed at France. The short-framed male stood there for a couple of minutes before whipping around and heading back the direction he entered, muttering, "I need an Advil…" to himself.

Spain watched in silence as everybody left, leaving him by himself… or so he thought. He jumped when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Oh… Germania!" He chirped, obvious relief in his face when he realized that the hand didn't belong to a psychotic killer. Though with the look Germania was giving him, he could be a close second. "What's up?"

"Who started this fight? Were you here when it started?" Germania questioned… though it sounded a lot more like a demand to Spain who visibly took a step away from the very intimidating man.

"It was just a miscommunication —I think— and then America came and we got into an argument —the retard called me an illegal alien again, what the heck— and then people came and Switzerland got mad again."

"The usual?"

"Yep!"

"Where's Gilbert? Are you sure he didn't start the fight?"

A tan hand scratched at curly brown locks. "Uh, well, I'm pretty sure he didn't. I _saw_ him last night when we were having a video chat, but then he cut me off to do something else." Antonio replied, an eyebrow arching upwards as his mind worked to go back to that night. "I figured he wanted to be alone cause somehow we ended up talking about Roderich and Elizabeta and you know how he is about those two."

The frown came to Germania's face easily at the news. "Ah yes, I remember when he first learned about their marriage." He shook his head, his long blonde hair swaying with the motion as he turned his gaze up to the sky. "He stayed in his room the whole entire week with the drapes closed." He caught an early drop of rain on his open palm.

"I don't get him sometimes."

"Neither do I." Germania's eyes stay trained on the sky as the rain starts picking up its pace. He turned to look at Spain, happily oblivious to the rain bouncing off his curly hair. "Do you want to talk to Gilbert? Maybe you'll have more luck than I had."

He caught a raindrop on his tongue before shrugging. "Sure, why not… as long as there's food though." Antonio declared, poking at his stomach. "I haven't eaten since… I actually can't remember."

Germania ignored the stupid grin sent his way.

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"Ah ha~ There's our Romeo!" Antonio joked, catching a glimpse of his friend's Gilbird-patterned pajama pant. _I wonder why he wears them; he looks pretty funny._ He took a bite out of his apple as he waved at the albino. At the loud snort coming from somewhere in the kitchen Germania quickly excused himself and disappeared behind a corner as Gilbert passed him by, a bowl of instant ramen in one hand. Red eyes stayed trained on the spot where the back disappeared to before looking down at his friend.

"Was that Gramps?"

"Yep, he wanted us to have a _talk_."

"As long as its not the sex talk again I'm fine." There was a loud snort of laughter from Spain as his leg was pushed off the sofa by Gilbert, who than quickly occupied the open space. Antonio propped up his elbows on his knees and stared at Gilbert with those puppy eyes of his.

Those big emerald-green eyes that have that little hint of innocent curiosity with little twinges of… malice.

It was always an off settling experience for Prussia when he was looked at like that. "Why are you looking at me like tha—"

"Want to talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about?"

"Well, you know, the Roderich and Elizabe—"

"I don't need nor want to talk about it."

Arms of a Spanish friend threw themselves over Gilbert's shoulder, and red eyes watched in silent horror as some of the soup from his snack splashed out and slopped onto the sofa. His grandpa was going to have a _FIT_ now. "Are you sure you don't need or want to? _Mi mejor amigo_," Spain whined as he shook the Prussia's body, spilling more of his soup onto the precious sofa. "You know you can talk to meeeeeee~"

Oh dear God, Gilbert just knew that there would be a big stain now.

Freaking white sofa. WHY WHITE?

"I'm pretty sure!" The albino snapped, shoving the leech off his body and sprawling onto the sofa. He stepped back to inspect the stain… which kind of looked like a vial for some reason. "Tony, clean that up will you?" Gilbert commanded, jerking his chin at the mess that was dripping onto the floor.

"Why can't you do it? It's your food."

"I promised somebody back in my room that I was just going to go get some food. Kesesese, bet they miss the _awesome_ me~" Spain watched as Gilbert ran off, spilling some food onto the ground in his hasty retreat. Then he stared at the stain before sighing and heading into the kitchen and grabbing a damp towel. It was then that Prussia's words dawned on him.

His face pulled into a frown.

"Gilbert has a whore in his room?"


	3. Act One, Scene Two

"You're interested in marrying… my Alfred?"

"N-Not Alfred, sir. Matthew…"

"Matthew? Who's Matthew?"

A pretty blonde dressed in a plain white blouse and a simple pencil skirt twiddled her fingers together nervously at the question. She had expected the question, but she still hadn't figured out how she was going to explain it. "A nation under your control." She responded.

The answer did nothing for Rome's memory. The furrow in his eyebrows deepens in confusion. "There's a lot of nations under my control, be more specific." He replied, dark brown eyes trying to not look at her _chest_. Which is a lot harder than one would think; they were just _there_, right there in your face.

Ukraine shuffled in place a little bit, her chest bouncing with the slight movement. Rome's eyes almost fell out of their sockets. "Um, well he's blonde and he has a curl sticking out of his hair."

"Isn't that Alfred?"

"N-No… He carries around a polar bear sometimes?"

Old brown eyes lighted up in recognition and he was finally able to get his eyes off that damned chest of hers. He slapped a fist onto his palm. "Oh! Canada, right!" The bright smile on Ukraine's face told him the answer, but his face immediately fell. "If it's Canada, I'm not too sure if marriage would be okay. I mean… aren't you a Axis member?"

Well, that caught her off guard. "I'm not an Axis member! I work with my brother, Russia! A-And he's an Allied Forces member." She corrected hastily, frantically waving her hands around. The sound of something moving caused Rome to stare at her chest… once again. "Even if I was… y-you're not the kind of person to stand in true love's way, are you?" She asked, her voice dropping a few notes as she cast shy glances over her shoulder as if expecting her boss to pop out the corner at any moment.

Still his lips stayed in the same position and it was only when she turned away in defeat did he talk again. "I'm not sure if my Mattie is up to marriage." Rome confessed, shrugging his shoulders. He turned and made his way over to the window, fingers trailing along the hatch before he unlocked it and pushed the window open. "His human mom—you know how some nations live with humans to bond and whatnot?" Ukraine nodded her head. "Well… she died recently and he's been a bit depressed about that. He's been living with her since she learned that she wasn't able to have a kid herself."

"Oh… I-I'm sorry, he never told me that."

"It's okay, I had to figure it out myself. Canada doesn't really let people know about that side of his life…" Ancient Rome shook his mind to clear those depressing thoughts. "Anyways, I don't think he's ready for marriage. Though if you can get him to consent, I'll consider." There was a moment of silence as he rubbed the stubble on his chin, lost in thought. "Plus, he's an independent country, he handles those kinds of things on his own, doesn't he?"

"O-Oh yeah…"

"Anyways! I'm having a party tonight here, why don't you come? Canada is going to be here. He might stay up in his quarters, but he'll be here!" The old man let out a hearty and deep laugh from his chest, one that showed him off as the doting grandpa he really was. A smile broke out on Ukraine's face as she pushed back a free lock of her hair. "Come, come! Bring all your friends too! As long as they're not Axis, I'll be happy!"

"Okay then, thank you Rome."

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"It's weird having France hanging out at the headquarters. You know… with him being an Allied Powers member…"

"Hey! My little _bruder_ invaded him and made him on our side, okay? Just drop it." Gilbert retorted, playfully shoving Spain whose drink slopped onto the ground with a loud _splssssssh._ He stared down remorsefully at it as Gilbert's laughter rang out in the bar. But the laughter quickly died away when he noticed the familiar shadow looming over him. He slowly looked over his shoulder, pale face growing even paler at the person behind him. "O-Oh hi Liz…"

"Are you going to clean that up?"

"That?" He repeated, pointing at his drunken friend who somehow managed to fall out of his seat. Spain was currently rolling on the ground (giggling and muttering something about Lovino) and somehow managing to avoid the puddle of alcohol that was just spilled. Prussia snorted before laughing at the humorous sight. "That? Clean up that? Sure I'll clean _that_ up." He poured the rest of his beer onto the floor and pointed at it. "Only if you be the good housewife you are and clean _that_ up."

"Get out."

"Heeeeey, it's only three in the afternoon! A bit too early to be mad at me, isn't it?"

"Just… get out."

Prussia didn't need to be told thrice, the look one the Hungarian's face was enough to make him think twice about dumping his beer on the ground. Even if it wasn't good beer, it was still drinkable and he _did_ pay for it after all. And with his own money! "Fine, fine, fine." He flippantly waved his hand at her as he slowly bent down and threw Spain over his shoulder. God, the man was a lot lighter than he thought. "We'll be gooooooing~" He sang, his voice hitting all the wrong notes. He let out a laugh as he felt Spain plug up his ears. And so the duo stumbled out of the bar, Prussia knocking into every table and using Antonio's limp body to smash down every mug.

"Gi-_GILBERT_!" Elizabeta shrieked, face red with rage as she dashed over to the table they just knocked into, catching the bottle right before it could crash into the ground and shatter. You know, like the other fifteen or twenty bottles. She pushed back her hair, unadulterated homicidal rage in her eyes as she watched Prussia set Spain back down onto his feet at the entrance. "Get back here and clean up this mes—"

"See ya Liz! Hope you and Roddy have a good and happy life!" The door slammed before she could say anything, but it wasn't very hard to hear the loud scream of, "_GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT!_" that rang out.

Spain let out a loud giggle (a manly and drunk giggle) before he stumbled right over the steps and crashed into a passerby. Said passerby was a very unhappy Greece being tailgated by an equally unhappy Turkey. Spain face-planted into the earth. Gilbert fell down the stairs laughing and crashed into Turkey who was trying to help Spain up.

It was just a big tangled mess of limbs.

Greece pushed away Gilbert's face with a grunt when it got much too close to his own and he slipped out of the mob, but not before punching the person who managed to cop a feel of his tush. He wiped his palms on his pants before pulling his beaten jacket out from underneath the squirming bodies. Now that he could really take all the sight in… they kind of reminded him of some sort of mutated Pokemon or something. "Can any of you guys read this letter? His handwriting is really bad."

"GODDAMIT GREECE. Did you have to punch me that hard?" Turkey snapped from where he was trying to pull his leg out from underneath Spain, but a very tipsy Spain was making that very hard. He let out a loud groan of pain when Antonio rolled over his leg with a giggle. _Remind me never to give him alcohol._ He rubbed his cheek. "I didn't touch your ass on purpose!"

"So it was you who touched me!"

"What! You didn't know it was me! So you punched me for no reason!"

"I have a reason: I don't like you."

"That's such a fucked up reason."

"No it's no—"

"Stop bickering like an old married couple. God, Birdie wasn't kidding when he said that you two don't shut up." Gilbert massaged his temples, a frown on his face as he glared up at the two men from his position on the ground. "You remind me of France and England. You know them?" He didn't wait for a response before he reached up and snatched the letter from the Greek's hand. A scowl formed on his face. "Did Old Man Rome write this? God, he needs better handwriting. How can anybody read this shit?" He handed the note back to Greece. "Besides the awesome me of course."

"Can you read it?" Questioned Greece, handing the note back to Prussia. The albino slowly sat up, eyeing the letter, and folded his arms over his chest.

"Yeah…" He drawled out.

"Will you read it?" Heracles asked again, shaking the letter in his face.

A slow-growing smirk came to Gilbert's face as he slowly reached for it. "I don't know, what's in it for me?"

"I won't know until I know what's on the letter."

The smirk fell from his face when he realized the truth in Greece's face. He shot a glare at Turkey who wasn't even trying to contain his snorts. "Fine, give it to me. You owe me something big though." He mumbled under his breath as he snatched the letter and started reading it. "It just lists names and crap like that." His eyes narrowed as he reread the letter though. "Hey, these are all nations. Where are they supposed to go?"

"A party."

"A part—"

"A party!" Squealed Spain; launching himself at Gilbert with grabby hands. "I haven't been to a party in such a long time! You know, with all this fighting going on and stuff!" He explained with a wave of his hand as he tried to make-do with Rome's crappy writing. He tipped his head to the side. "Wow… this really is… something. Gilbert, how did you read this anyways?"

He tugged the letter out of Antonio's hands and handed it back to Turkey. "Remember our deal…" Gilbert trailed off hopefully, looking up at the two as endearingly as he could. With a little hint of cold malice to show that he was bent on getting what he wanted.

Greece looked away. "Yeah, feel free to come as long as you don't cause any trouble—"

"Or you're an Axis Powers member." Turkey cut in.

Heracles sent him a sharp glare. "Yeah… that too."

Silence.

More silence.

"So… yeah, good day to you two."

"I think I saw Elizabeta's name on there." Spain said once the other two disappeared from sight. He paused to stifle a burp. "Or maybe it was Belgium's name, I couldn't really tell." He paused to stifle yet another burp and Gilbert took it as an opportunity to scoot away from him a little bit. Just in case Antonio decided to empty his stomach. "You know, we just got an invite. Why don't we go? Maybe seeing Hungary in Austria's arm while making kissy-faces at each other will rile you up! You know, just enough to get you out of your room and into another lady's."

"I don't know… should I go? She's going to be pretty mad at me tonight."

"What? What'd you do?"

"Oh? You can't remember?"

"Remember what!"

"Oh… never mind."

The Spanish man scratched at his arm as he realized that Prussia was going into thinking mode. Though it kind of confused him: what was there to think about? You just go to a party, get drunk, and hope you don't wake up with a stranger. Simple.

"You know, maybe I should go." Prussia said at last, slamming a fist onto the ground. "But only to check out some girls and nothing more!"

"Whatever lets you sleep at night~"


	4. Act One, Scene Three

_AN: 6 updates in one day... what more can a PruCan fan ask for? You know, besides a free scholarship to college.

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A young adult, close to the tender age of nineteen, fast-walked down the hall. Words slipped out of his mouth, words only audible to him as he cursed his only brother for being well… Alfred. Which now that Matthew thought about it, it wasn't really fair that he was blaming all his problems on his brother. Alfred can't help—once again, being America. He just can't! "Argh… maybe I should just go back and talk to—"

"Arthur! Arthur! Where are you! Where's Canada! Get him for me, will ya?"

That caught his attention. A blonde eyebrow quirked upwards as he peered around the corner, spotting a man dressed only in a bathrobe and his curly brown hair sopping-wet. _Why's he looking for me?_ "Rome, I'm right," Canada watched as the man walked right past him, "Here…" His shoulders slumped as he watched Rome's back disappear. Well, there's that sense of frustration again. "Argh… why do I even bothe—OW! _What are y_—"

"America! What the bloody hell are you doing here?" England hissed as he jerked the ear that was being help captive. He ignored the yelp of pain from the blonde and Arthur's massive eyebrows furrowed as his voiced lowered. It was still pretty goddamn harsh in Canada's opinion though. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for the fight?"

Fight. There's going to be a fight? Canada's squirming stopped and he stared down at him. "I… uh… there's going to be a… _fight_?"

Green eyes narrowed as they actually inspected his face for the first time before widening in shock. _Oh crap…_ He quickly let go of Matthew's ear and stumbled away from him, unsure of what to say. _He wasn't supposed to know about it. I am such a retard._ "I… um… just go get Rome. He's looking for you." Arthur spun the kid around and nudged him down the hall again.

That was the end of that topic.

* * *

"I'm getting married!"

"No… you _might_ be getting married. It's just an alliance between two nations!"

"It's with Ukraine! Russia is going to have a _fit_!"

"You can't prove that!" Though that nervous and troubled look on Rome's face told both Canada and England something entirely different. He forces out a hearty chuckle as a rough hand scratches at his dripping hair. "Haven't you ever thought about marrying a pretty girl?" Canada reluctantly nods his head. "Well now's your chance! A beauty like Ukraine doesn't come every… how old _is_ she?"

"Rome, that's not something you should ask about regarding a lady."

"Ah! True is that Arthur… true." The old empire grew silent, eyes looking off into the distance as he rests his chin on his hand. It was a picture-perfect moment. If it weren't for the fact that he was still wearing nothing but a bathrobe. "Well, there's a party for the Allied Forces and Ukraine's coming. It would be nice for you to attend…"

Matthew looked away, a frown on his lips. _So that's where North Italy learned his puppy face from._ He risked taking a peek at those big pleading eyes and to be frank, he crumbled. "Okay…"

There was the noise of air being sucked sharply in before Rome ran over to Matthew, slapped a hand across the boy's back, and pulled him into a bear hug. And in the blink of an eye, the old man was gone like Matthew's coherence of what just happened. "England, what just ha… Why are you looking at me like that?"

The man just sighed and shook his head, a fond smile growing on his face. "You haven't eaten anything since breakfast, I'm guessing you're pretty hungry now." England said, totally avoiding Canada's question. "What do you want to eat?"

"I-I'm not real—"

"Yao made it."

"O-Oh! I'm starving!"

England quickly removed the apron off his person, neatly folding it over his arm as he led Matthew into the kitchen. They walked in complete silence, neither sure of what to say that would be appropriate for the moment. Arthur just tried to take a whack at it. "So what have you been doing in your room so much lately?"

"Oh… just talking to a friend."

"A friend?" A smile that Matthew couldn't see was on his face. "A little internet romance I'm guessing?" He stifled his chuckles at the sputtering noises from behind him. It kind of sounded like Alfred trying to start up that old antique car of his… So cute.

"No! It's—I! Uh—I! Wha! _HUH_?"

"Ooooh, I see. It's even bigger than that."

"No! Arthur! There's nothing going on!"

His burning face had calmed down considerably when Arthur wanted to throw him that skeptic look. Though it was still pretty red… like, Spain's tomatoes red. He felt like hiding his face in his hands and slinking back to his friend when he saw England shake his head. "Mattie, my kid… you're a bloody idiot sometimes." Canada looked up from the ground. "You're in love and you don't even know it." The young adult's mouth opened, but England cut in. "I've been taking care of you since… was it 1764? I know when you're in love. I can tell. You make such a big fuss trying to deny it."

"I…"

"Don't have anything to say against that do you?"

Matthew waited by the entrance to the kitchen as England walked in and set the apron to the side. "I still remember when you were under France's rule, you know." England called out from somewhere in the room. Matthew mindlessly nodded his head. "That French frog, I can't believe him sometimes. Bloody sodding pervert."

"What'd he do this time?"

"Not this time, a long time ago." There was a pause in his speech where Canada could hear pots and pans being moved about. "One day I come over to visit and you're walking and you fall on your face."

"Yeah?"

"You get a cut on your forehead so you start bawling your eyes out so bloody much that even your polar bear leaves you."

"… That's a really nice story, eh."

"I'm not done. So France comes up to you and picks you up. And then the twit goes and says, 'Oh, did you fall on your face? You'll fall backwards when you grow smarter, won't you?' And then something in French that I can't understand."

"Wait, I don't ge—"

England walks out of the kitchen, some white stuff in his sandy blonde hair and hands Matthew's lunch to him. Violet-blue eyes stare down at the slightly burnt chicken. Well, it's better than England's actual cooking. "Thank you." England walks back into the kitchen.

"Fall backwards, it means to have sex."

"Oh… that does seem like France."

"That's not it. You stop crying right after he says that, the bloody pervert, and then said, 'Yes.'"

"I said yes?"

"You said yes."

"I… wow…"

"Hmn… now go on upstairs and have some fun with your _friend_. Just don't have cyber sex."

"ARTHUR. _What's your problem, eh!_"

"Nothing. I'm being completely serious here…"

That look on England's face, that completely unmoving and totally passive look told Canada what he needed to know. Yep, Arthur was being serious. "Uh… okay." He said awkwardly, scratching at the hair at the base of his neck. "I guess I'll be going…" He never ran so fast in his life.

"HEY! Don't run! You'll fall and get blood everywhere! This isn't your house you know!" With his hands on his hips, Arthur suddenly felt like a mother for some reason. Blink, blink, blink. "Bloody teenagers."


	5. Act One, Scene Four

_AN: You guys are wonderful~ I think that was the most notices I've ever gotten in one day. 'Tis was weird._

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* * *

_

The sun had retired for the night and no stars hung in the sky. There are no clouds obscuring the view of the grand vastness and a mother gush of wind would pass by only be followed by the littler breezes. Flickers of colors could be seen from a distance, wrapping around people's ankles, wrists, and adorned on their heads like a crown. Simple minded chatter filled the sky and the world was filled with joy… all except for the Bad Touch Trio.

"No, no, no, no. I'm not going." Gilbert deadpanned, his red eyes narrowed into slits. He squeezed them shut as Francis once again wrapped his arms around his midriff and tried to tug him off the pole. Antonio laughed from where he was trying to wretch Gilbert's lanky legs off the pole. "Hey! Frenchy, watch where your hands are going." Gilbert snapped as he felt those hands start trailing south.

"I can't help it." France said with a shrug as he hands moved back up to the Prussia's stomach. He placed one well-dressed shoe against the pole and tried pulling again. "You look very dashing in those clothes." He managed to grunt out as they once again tried to get their friend off the damned pole. Seriously, why didn't they make a move when he pounced at it?

"It's pretty cool to be wearing the clothes we wore back in the Austrian Succession." Spain chirped. He let go of Gilbert's legs to wipe off that small sheen of sweat on his forehead, a healthy red in his cheeks and a wide grin on his face. "Well guys," He smoothed out his clothing as he caught sight of a very special somebody, "I'll be going!" And off like a rocket he left, jumping and flailing while screaming out, "_Lovino! Lovi~ Wait for me! Why are you running?_"

"Uh… did Spain just ditch us for Romano?" Gilbert questioned.

"Why, yes, I believe he just did." Answered Francis, a gloved hand rising to mask the growing smirk. A snicker escaped him. "Though weren't you just about to leave us to go to your little Internet _chéri_?"

"_Chérie_?"

"_Oui_, that's what I said: _chéri_."

Both men just stared at each other, quietly judging the other's motives before both spontaneous broke out into a fit of laughs. France slapped his knee, his laughs shaking his shoulder as Gilbert sank to the ground, one hand clutching at the hat in his lap as everyone around them heard his laughter.

"Oh my God, do you—Ah ha ha—know why we're laughing?" Gilbert barked between fits and bouts of laughs. He wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye, the laughing finally starting to hurt him…

"Ha ha ha~ Of course not! I just," He paused midsentence to let out a rather loud cough. And then the laughing starts again, "I just know that it's starting to—hurt—me." Francis snatched the hat from Gilbert's lap and pressed it flush against his mouth in an effort to shut up. And out of the corner of his eye, he could see the two newlyweds. "Don't look now—Hur ha—But there's Roddy and Liz."

The hand holding onto Roderich's tightened as they passed by the duo. Elizabeta's eyes stayed trained on them for a very long time as Roderich tried his hardest not to look at them. As they entered the building, she stood up on her tippy toes and whispered into her husband's ear, "Are they doing drugs?"

Roderich really didn't know how to answer her.

* * *

"So tell me about her."

"Her?"

"Your Internet sweetheart."

Okay, he may be an aging man, but there was no way in hell that his hearing was that bad already. He was positive that France said '_her_.' He was very positive. Which just confused him as evidenced by the puzzled look on his face and the way he kept looking at France as if he just said that he might be in love with a very angry Brit. Then his lips twisted into an impish and lopsided smirk. "Oh yes, _her_. What do you want to know about _her_?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Why do you keep looking at me like I'm a piece of meat?" Gilbert retorted. "An awesome piece of flesh might I add." A waggle of his eyebrows and France playfully nudged him. There was a snort from the albino who smuggled a handful of chips in retaliation.

"Well… _she_ was born in good ol' Canada and _mein Gott_ is _she_ the cutest thing you'll have ever laid eyes on." Prussia said, red eyes looking up at the sky. A smile was on France's face as he popped a chip into his mouth. "_She_ always had this smile on _her_ face and it just brightens up those eyes of his. And _Heilige Scheiße_ are they gorgeous. Blue with a little bit of violet mixed in. Fan-fucking-tastic." Wait… Gilbert shook his head, a faint blush on his cheeks as he corrected himself. "I meant she, sorry. Kesese…se."

"Awwww~ My little _Prusse_ is in love with another man."

"It's not a man!"

"You just used the masculine pronoun and it doesn't help that you kept _stressing_ the feminine."

"… Fine, it's a man."

France broke off another piece of the potato chip, waving the other half around in the night air. He laughed when he noticed Prussia's eyes following it. "Ah, true love is such a blessing." Francis sang out, his eyes closed in bliss as a breeze swirled by. His eyes opened again and he looked at Gilbert. "Though I think you should give up on your friend there."

"W-What! Why!"

A shrug and in went the chip into the esophagus. "It's just…" A gloved hand waved about as Francis's mind worked together the best way to put this down. Gently. "It's just going to be too complicated." God, why don't he just go and rip his friend's heart right out of his chest? That would have been less painful and more direct. Hell, even an 'I'm in love with the person you're in love with and I refuse to share them with you' is better than this. _Prusse always did prefer direct confrontations…_ "Gilbert?"

"Ahmn…"

"You okay?" Oh… not the best question to ask judging by that look he's giving the Frenchman.

"I've been better."

"Do you want to go into the party? Maybe some loving of another type will help?"

A small groan and the albino shifted, pulling the rim of his hat over his eyes. A hand rested on his gut and it tapped out a steady and lonely tune. "I don't think I will." He said at last. He stood up, readjusting the hat to cover his eyes before patting the chip residue off his clothes. "I don't have a good feeling about the party."

"Really?" Francis stood up, untying his ponytail. He swung his head for a moment before tying his hair again. "Was it because of the chips or because of the…?"

"Not too sure, but I'll be going home." He forced an awkward grin. "You learn to trust your gut when you've been out there, fighting, for as long as I have." The albino snorted the grin disappearing to be replaced by a cocky smirk, a real smile that caused the worry lines in France's face to disappear. "I mean, I'm pretty awesome that way aren't I?" He blew his nails before rubbing them on his coat, his chest puffed out in an arrogant manner.

"So me and Spain are going home by ourselves?"

"Ha ha, if you live up to your reputation as a member of the Bad Touch Trio you two won't."

He stared at his friend for a few seconds before smiling and punching him lightly in the shoulder. "You sly, sly man." He placed his hand on his hips as he tipped his head back a little. "I'll be sure to give her such a night that it'll blow her mind."

"Make sure it's not the only thing that gets blown~"

"Ha ha, I'll make sure. Hurry up and go to your _chérie_~ And keep it in your pants okay?"

"No guarantees, Birdie has a tendency of raising things if you catch my drift~" He replies with a wink as France starts laughing. He waves one final goodbye to his best friend as they start heading in different directions.


	6. Act One, Scene Five

_AN: A quote for your thoughts: "Maple syrup is strangely addicting... it's like alcohol, but without the hangover..." I also learned that I have like... 9 one-shots that still need to be finished. BLEH._

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* * *

_

All by his lonesome sat a Canadian, a bowl of cold and half-eaten ramen in his lap. He was worried and not because it was Arthur who made the ramen for him, but because Gilbert wasn't on yet and he's always on during this time. Why wasn't he on now? Did he spill ice cream on his laptop again? Oh man, what happens if there was an emergency?

Matthew gazed around his room, trying to distract his attention from the computer screen. That damned screen pulled him back like a magnet and he fervently searched for the albino, all the while cursing the same man for coming up with this… roommate idea.

This idea was what caused him to fall in love with the freaking man. God, this stupid idea also guzzled up all of the electricity. Damn good thing that this month he doesn't to pay electricity fees because he's an important guest. Ah yes, the benefits of being a nation can be handy sometimes.

He poked at his ramen with a plastic fork before setting the things onto the desk and looked into Gilbert's room. _His room looks the same as it did three years ago when we first started this…_ Canada noted; a bit surprised that he never noticed that before. The faraway noise of a door opening caught his attention and he craned his head to the side, trying to catch of glimpse of the person. Then slapped his forehead for doing such a silly thing.

"Oh? Why isn't the screensaver on? Didn't I—Oh wait… ha ha…" There was the rustling of clothes being removed and Canada could imagine the man folding that jacket he got for him for their four years anniversary. Anniversary… God, that doesn't sound right! "_Hallo meine Süße—_W-Why are you laughing!_"_

He ceased his laughing, but his lips twitched with amusement. "Just what _are_ you wearing?" The usually shy male asked, eyes passing over the tricorner hat, the cream colored cravat, and the beige vest. "Is that from the Austrian Succession? Why are you wearing that? Is a war reenactment taking place today?"

"Ha ha ha." Gilbert mockingly laughed, waving both of his hands around. Matthew's smile grew bigger at the fact that the passive look on Gilbert's face didn't change, not one bit. "I'll have you know that I _was_ going to go to an extremely important party, but I figured that _you_ would miss my awesomeness." He smirked. "I was right."

He blushed at the truthfulness in those last words. "A party?"

"A party." Gilbert repeated, looking away from the webcam as he scratched his head. God, one petty little blush on that fair face and he was so tempted to reach past that screen, grab the boy, and push him onto his bed. And where the hell were his thoughts going? He let out an awkward laugh as his train of thought continued on in a happy pace. Gosh darn it, a shower scene… really?

"Gil? You okay, eh?"

"Of course I'm okay, I'm awe—" The German stopped abruptly and he stared quizzically at the screen. The blonde's face mirrored his own. "W… where are you?" He asked at last, pressing his face closer to the screen. All Mattie could see on his side was the top of Gilbert's head and a happy Gilbird chirping at him. "You're not at your house are you?"

Yeah, it's a bit odd knowing that Gilbert knows what his house looks like from the inside. Matthew looked over his shoulder, eyes going to where his hockey stick would be hanging up if it were his room. "Yeah, I'm at my hotel… dorm room. I was called in for an international conference."

"I… think I recognize that wallpaper. You're in the Ramelle Hotel on Verona Street aren't you?"

"I, uh… yeah." He made no effort to hide his worried expression. "I, juh… uh, how did you find out?" Canada asked, suddenly doubting those five years they spent together. Never have they talked about their occupations, never have they even touched the subject of a personified country walking about, and yet here was a man who knew of a hotel reserved only for nations. What. The. Hell?

He set himself up. How much smarter can he get? Now how to get out of this without it becoming more awkward? Oh wow, now his mind pulls a blank? "It's an… interesting hotel." Gilbert said at last, fifteen or seventeen minutes after Matthew's question. He shrugged, feeling uncomfortable in his own skin. "I mean, I've been inside it a couple of times and it's pretty hard to forget it. I remember once Francis brought along all his parrots because he couldn't find anybody to take care of them while he's gone." He laughed, missing the surprised look on the other's face. "_Gott_, those parrots went wild when they saw Kiku's dog."

"Gilbert… what _are_ you?"

"Wh-What are you talking about? I'm a human… of course. What about you?"

"… The same as you… I guess."

Silence.

More silence.

More face-making and grimaces as nobody talks.

"Oh!" Gilbert said suddenly, slapping a gloved hand to his cheek in dramatic shock. "Will you look at the time?" Canada tried to see the imaginary watch on Prussia's wrist that was hidden out of view. "The party is still going on! _Mein dame_, would you like to accompany me to a dance?"

"Uh, sure, but aren't we a couple thousand miles apart?"

"We'll see about that." Gilbert throws at wink at the Canadian. "It's at 6512 on Verona Street. I'll meet you there by the entrance." Both men got up at the same time. Gilbert's laughter could be heard as he pulls on his jacket and Matthew could hear the nervous beating of his own heart. "I'll see you there, Birdie."

"Don't forget to close your webcam, Gil."

"Kesesese, I won't forget _that_ again… though you have to admit, I look pretty awesome in boxers."

"I don't need to be reminded of that again."

"Oh _whatever_. Bye."

"Bye."

There was nobody left in their rooms with both men eager to see each other for the very first time in person.

* * *

He was nervous. Nervous, nervous, nervous, even more nervous than that time he was in the foxhole and realized that Allied tanks had left him and his troops behind. That made him very nervous, but this? This was even worse. Here he is at a party that Rome had invited him to (He wasn't planning on going… you know, to avoid his potential marriage) and here he is holding hands with a complete and utter… dork.

A lovable dork, but a dork nevertheless.

Gilbert kept staring at him, though he kept rambling on and on… it was like he was waiting for him to do something, but what? WHAT? Though the man could think this is a bit awkward, Matthew realized, having successfully blocked off most of Gilbert's talking. _He always did get more annoying when he's uncomfortable with something…_

Matthew stared at Gilbert's profile, catching the way his hand would tug at his collar occasionally and the small furrow in his eyebrows. Come on, do something. Anything. _Come on… come on… COME ON—Oh. It actually worked._ Both men stop in the middle of the hallway, just staring at each other as people swerve past them. Matthew watched Gilbert's Adam apple bobble when he swallowed thickly. He pulled his hat off and placed it against his chest, red eyes looking over the Canadian's head. "I, uh, um… kesesese… se."

"Do you know what everybody's going to?"

"I, uh, wait… what?"

Matthew smiled. "I said do you know where everybody's going?"

Okay, this had better not be some sort of a trick question 'cause he really doesn't know. "Um… places?"

This time Matthew laughed. "They're going to the dance. Do you want to go?" He honestly thought that Prussia was considering it, but one quick blink of the eye and he suddenly found himself pinned underneath Gilbert's broader frame. Yes, it was very freaky and Matthew swore he lost five years to his life. Okay, maybe just one. "Gilbert, what are you do—"

"Go to a place with witnesses? Why would I do that? It'll get in the way."

"Witnesses? I'm afraid to ask, but to what?"

He laughed, a throaty yet high-pitched kind of laugh that threw his head back. Canada blushed prettily, self-consciously tightening his hold on Gilbert's jacket. "What do you think?" Gilbert smirked, staring at his friend's bowed head before pressing himself closer to the smaller body. Matthew twitched but didn't move from his spot, his hands fisting the albino's jacket.

"I'm not too sure I want to think about it."

Gilbert laughed again before leaning forward, thanking whoever's God is up there that Matthew slouches when he stands. He stares at the blonde, finally noticing his fading tan, his bony nose, and how it's crooked. Did he break his nose before? He never told him. There's an uncomfortable twisting in his gut, excitement coursing through his veins as he narrows the gap between their lips. "You are so fucking damn cute."

"I…" Matthew trails off, lost in a steady and fast-paced feeling of something when those lips touched his for the briefest of moments. One… two… and _PUSH_.

There was silence in Matthew's mind as he tried to piece together his thoughts. Then he noticed that Gilbert disappeared. And oh wow, he could hear somebody groaning on the ground. "Oh dear God, I'm so sorry Gilbert! I didn't mean to push you over!" One hand covered his face in shame as the other pulled Gilbert up to his feet. The albino stared at him, a large hand rubbing the spot where his head hit the floor.

"What the hell was that for?"

"I-I… I heard somebody coming…"

And never has he been so glad to see his brother, the ever-infamous America. Alfred poked his head out from the corner, looked left and right before noticing Canada, and dashed on over to him. "Dude? Where were you? Ukraine was looking for you. She looked pretty depressed when she le—And what the hell are you doing here?"

Matthew felt out of the loop. Which wasn't anything unusual, but when you have your brother with his hands around your… well, what was Gilbert now? A friend still? He shook his head to clear away the useless thoughts, concentrating on getting America's hands away from Gilbert's throat. Though now that he can actually think… are they both chocking each other?

Oh man. They are.

"Kraut bastard! Nazi whore!"

"Racist freak! Your troops are shit!"

"G-Gilbert! Al! Stop!" His cheeks puffed out as he was ignored and the chocking progressed into slapping. "W-What are you guys doing?" Is it a smart idea to get between those two? They're throwing punches at each other at the moment. He dodged a punch that was off target. "You guys! Goddamit! You're acting like children! STOP." With the sharp note of his last command before men stopped their clawing at each other's hair to stare at Matthew. From then on it was relatively easy to pry those two off each other.

_God, where's Arthur when you need him? Probably out there getting buzzed or something._ Matthew thought bitterly to himself as he paced in front of the two older men. _God, I envy him._ He sent them a hard glare, barking something in French at them to get them to stop glaring at each other so childishly. Gilbert quieted up, wondering what the French was while Alfred was unfazed. "We're not your troops Mattie…"

"Good thing you're not, eh! My army is much better behaved than you two!"

"Come on Matt, you know that's not tr—"

"Your tanks left my troops and I behind when we were fighting!"

"Hey… I had orders to leave…"

The blonde sighed and hung his head, not noticing those red eyes watching him in wonderment, absolutely ensnared by the man in front of him. Gilbert watched as Matthew continued arguing with Alfred, trying to drive his point into his brother's skull and realized that this wasn't Mattie. This wasn't his sweet, meek, little Birdie, but alas it was! He tipped his head to the side as Matthew delivered his point and Alfred sniffled.

"A-Al… you're not going to cry are you?"

"No…" The way his voice quivered said otherwise.

"I… I'm sorry Alfred so don't cry. It's so weird when you cry." Matthew knelt down in front of his brother, trying to be as comforting as possible after the vicious rant. Gilbert wondered who was the older brother… probably Matthew right? "Go see Arthur, I heard that he's still hung over the lose of Francis."

A jerk from Alfred and he slowly stood up. He wiped at his eyes before glaring down at Gilbert. "I want you gone by midnight. If you're not gone, I'm going to go and _nuke_ you and your brother." America sniffled before wiping his nose on his sleeve and trudging off back down the hall. He threw one last glare over his shoulder and mouthed to Prussia, "_You're dead the next time I see you._"

A heavy silence lingered in the hall after he left.

"What were you two fighting about?"

"Oh you know… nation stuff."

"Oh, nation stuff?" Wait. Hold on. Something's not right. Matthew stared at Gilbert. He smiled back, a cocky grin on his face. "You're a nation, eh!" He blurted out, a mixture of surprise, glee, and confusion on his face. Gilbert had to laugh and that's exactly what he did.

"Kesesese… not exactly. An ex-nation to be exact. An awesome one."

"Prussia?"

"In the flesh."

"France used to tell me about you."

"Really? Kesesese, did I live up to my reputation?"

"Yes. As a dork."

The smirk plummeted from Prussia's pale face and he lightly punched Matthew's arm. Matthew laughed and playfully cuffed the white head. "Fuck, he never told you about how I actually kicked his ass when we were playing?"

"I don't think that's something a parent wants to tell their child."

"Damn it. I'll have to tell you some damn good stories after we catch something to eat, _Canada_." He smirked while the blonde blushed again. Though the blushing could have came from the fact that Gilbert grabbed the smaller hand. "I'm freaking starving."

"What do you want?"

"Something Canadian sounds good. OH LOOKIE HERE. Something Canadian!" And before Matt could even say anything, hell, even think of something to say, a kiss had been stolen from him. His blush darkened and he slugged Prussia in the arm, eliciting a yelp from him and a laugh.

"That was cheesy…"

"I thought it was pretty sweet." _Though it's not the only thing that's sweet._ Prussia smacked his lips together. "What have you been eating? Maple syrup for the past two months?"

A snort and Canada rolled his eyes. "No, the maple syrupy flavor wasn't me. I'm pretty positive it was you."

"I'm sure it's you. The awesome me is never wrong about all things maple-y and syrupy."

"Want to find out?"

"Thought you would never ask."

Another brief kiss was shared between the two.

"Come on, we can't stay here forever. Do you want to go see the show?"

"There's a show?" Gilbert parroted.

"I'm pretty positive it's _Law & Order: Special Victims Unit_." A dumbfounded look was sent his way. "It's a show that deals wi—"

"I know what it is. West watches it all the time when he has nothing to do. The freak…" Gilbert mumbles to himself fondly. He scratches his neck and tugs on the hand holding his own. "Just why is that show being shown at a party?"

"I-I don't know… I think it was France's last wish or something." Canada explains, pressing himself against Gilbert to let another couple pass them by. Gilbert relished the feeling while it lasted.

"There's something wrong with that man."

"Probably."

Both men walked off, wondering about this mess they've dug for themselves and how much of France's sanity is not to be questioned.


	7. Act Two, Scene One

He felt good. Not a normal good though, it was a very awesome _good_ if that made sense. It was like that moment in life when he received a package from Matthew and smoked some of the contents. Sure he got in trouble with Matthew later (He never got that…), but at the time he felt hella _good_. Just like now except he's not high off his rockers.

No, he was love drunk.

France and Spain exchanged worried looks as the remaining member of the Bad Touch Trio gazed into his drink, a loving look on his face. It was certainly very weird to be watching your best friend having a lover's moment with a mug of soda. Spain leaned into France, unknowingly letting France's hand to roam up his shirt and whispered, "Is he making kissy faces at his drink or his reflection?" His eyebrows furrowed at Prussia's sigh.

"I would say reflection since that would be normal… but I'm afraid that's not the case today." France confessed, a small smile coming to his face as he thought back to the party a few hours ago before they were all kicked out. He _wasn't_ stalking Prussia or anything, but he somehow (by coincidence) managed to spot Prussia kissing a blonde. He wasn't too sure who the blonde was, but it was safe to assume that it was Gilbert's Internet sweetheart… or he got really drunk. And horny. "A lot happened when you were busy with Lov—Gilbert? Where're you going? _Mon ami_?"

Both men stood up as Gilbert suddenly started walking away. He pulled his usual Prussian blue jacket (with a little maple leaf sewed onto it) off the chair and shoved his arm into it. He didn't look behind him as he said, "I'm gonna go. There's somebody I want to see." The albino didn't react to the voices calling his name.

"France! Where's he going! Call him back here will you?"

"W-What! Why me! You know he likes to punch me!"

"France!"

"Fine!" And vulgarities spilled from his mouth as he tried to coax Prussia back to them. Spain cringed with each word that came out of those lips and he thought bitterly to himself, _And he wonders why Gilbo always punches him._ "France," Spain snapped when something about vital regions was said. "If he hears you he's going to get angry."

"That's the point. Besides… he's so out of it he can't even open the door. See?" A hand pointed in Prussia's direction from underneath Spain's shirt. A snort came out when he realized that it seemed like the great Kingdom of Prussia was so love drunk that he couldn't even open a damn door. This? This he had to keep for future references. "Hey Francis, did you bring your phone?"

"Oh yeah, I have my pho—Oh damn. Too late. _Désolé_." He snapped his phone shut and slipped it back into his pocket. "I'm sorry, Spain. I know you wanted that photo."

"Aw man…" The fuzzy-chinned blonde wrapped his friend in a consoling hug as the footstep of their entertainment fades away. Antonio still managed to somehow stay oblivious to the south-roaming French hand. Another low groan and Francis rubbed soothing circles into his back.

"Aw, cheer up. There'll be other times where _Prusse_ is going to make a fool of himself."

"No it's not that…" The Spanish man's face twisted into a look of utter pain and discomfort. He clutched his stomach and France's hand slips out of his shirt. "I think I ate something bad…"

"… The bathroom's down the corner."

"_GRACIAS!_"


	8. Act Two, Scene Two

_AN: I was curious as to why people wrote fanfiction so I searched around a bit and came across a question that said: "Why do people write fanfiction instead of more original ideas?" This struck me as funny since well, you see a lot of AU fanfictions don't you? Take your original ideas and add in some canon characters and ta-dah! Then it makes me wonder, why are there AU fanfictions? The characters are only the ones really the same and you can always use your OCs instead. Makes me curious, but ONWARDS. Updates might be a little slow just to let you guys know._

* * *

"A week!" A shrill voice yelled out, the sound carrying out of the open window and into the night air. "You're not serious are you? Alfred, tell me you're not serious." The same voice pleaded as another voice mumbled soothing nothings. "Alfred, _please_ this is ridiculous… you fought with me last time and I'm still on my break."

The American tugged on his nightcap, unsure of what to say to the point his brother brought up. It was true… Alfred should still be on his five years break, the time set-aside for those nations that had fought in the latest battle to stabilize their economy. Maybe it was because his economy was doing really good? Maybe that's the reason? He wasn't too sure. "Your five years are coming to an end too, bro." Alfred pointed out. "You're probably going to have to fight after this one."

As much as he didn't want to admit it, America was probably right. It seems like they're just trying to drag this war out for as long as possible. "Yeah… probably." Canada mumbled to himself, his heart pounding at the mere thought of being out on the battlefield again. It was just nerve wracking. "Uh… who's fighting in this one?"

Alfred looks at the computer screen, tips his head to the side when he realizes that it was his brother's private blog entry, and looks away. Violet eyes looked to were those blue ones were originally looking at. He stood up and minimized the screen. Alfred said, "I'm not too sure. Just know that I'm going to be fighting." He rubbed his nose. "I think we might be going against Germany though."

"G-Germany?" Canada nibbled on his lips, unsure if he should ask. Oh what the heck? What's to lose? "I-Is Pru—"

"Alfred! Where are you! Come down here!"

"I'm coming Mom! WAIT!"

"I'm not your MOTHER, you bloody git! Get your arse down here now!"

"OKAY! STOP YOUR YELLING!" Alfred hollered back. "I'm talking to Matt at the moment! I'll be down soon!" A quiet mutter of, '_Sheesh mothers'_ made Matthew giggle. Alfred looks at Matthew fondly; mind refusing to admit that this might be the last time he sees his baby brother. He needs to get ready for the battle. No time to get mushy. "Okay, kiddo. I'll be seeing you after this whole mess, okay?" He pulls his brother into a hug, notices hands fisting his T-shirt. He pulls away. "Don't have cyber sex."

He runs out before Canada could throw his pillow at him.

Matthew sighs and shakes his head, thinks '_That asshole better come back in one piece…'_ He wipes away some tears from his eyes before shuffling over to his computer. He stares at what he had written before his brother barged in, shakes his head again, and sets about to writing the rest.

* * *

Somewhere along the way he developed super-senses that are capable of detecting his Birdie in a fifteen-mile radius. Pretty awesome right? Though it was kind of creepy when Gilbert thought harder about it. Maybe this was how Belarus kept finding Russia? Oh God, he's not a stalker is he? He pokes his head out of the tall bushes, looking upwards where he could see some light and hear the clanking of a keyboard.

Nope, he's not a stalker.

Just a very obsessive lover.

Lover? When did the great Prussia become meek Canada's lover? And when was the word _obsessive_ used to describe his intense feelings towards somebody? He crept along the wall, making sure to keep in the shadows like he was taught during camp. Gilbert stared upwards, pressed his back against the wall, wondered what he was going to do. Jump out like Romeo and give his Juliet a heart attack? Nope, not going to take that risk.

Besides, he might get shot and no one should have to go through the torture of not seeing his pretty face.

But what can he do to get Matthew's attention? He looks around, anything tall and sturdy that he might be able to climb. He looks up at the window, wonders if he can throw a pebble at it, but discards that idea. He'll never be able to hear Matthew from this distance if he insists on whispering to keep anybody from hearing. Gilbert looks around a bit more, the yellow bird in his head looking around with him. Gilbird spots something, Prussia looking to the other side, flies off and lands on the ivy-covered ladder. He lets out a loud chirp, Prussia looks at the ladder, and smiles. "Oh Gilbird, have I ever told you how awesome you are?"

He jimmies the ladder away from the ivy, moving it closer to the window, and starts the long (but sweet) trek upwards.

* * *

At first Matthew thought he had just imagined it, but the second time he was surprised to see a yellow bird resting on his windowsill. He doesn't see birds over here often anymore, they all learned soon after Kumajiro was accidently let lose in the garden. He was even more surprised when it seemed to chirp at him, wave its wing, turn around, and wave at somebody below the window.

"_Hi, Birdie._" Gilbert mouthed, letting go of the ladder to wave at the blonde. He tried to push the window open, tried to pull it open too before pointing to it. "_Open it up, will ya?_" He mouthed, Gilbird fluttering up and resting itself in his white hair.

He felt a burst of excitement as he nodded his head, quickly minimized the document on his computer, and rushed over to his window. He quickly unlocked it, pushed it to the side, and pulled Gilbert in. The man was surprisingly light. "Gilbert, what are you doing here? If anybody finds you you'll get killed." Canada faltered a bit with the skeptical look sent his way. "Okay… maybe not killed, but you will get hurt."

Gilbert waved away that notion, roaming about Mattie's room, poking his noses into places the blonde wasn't entirely comfortable with. "The awesome me is too awesome to get hurt." He said at last, pulling off the comforter from the bed. Canada sat down next to him, draping the blanket over their legs.

"Hmn… of course." He mumbled, blonde head resting against the other's shoulder. He couldn't hear the nervous thumping of Gilbert's heart. "So what are you doing here?"

"What? I need an excuse to see my…" He trailed off; realizing that he had no idea what Matthew was to him. Well, what he was to him that he could say out lout without brutally embarrassing himself. He scratched at his hair, Gilbird flying away to rest on Kumajiro's head.

Canada crossed his arms over his chest, leaning away from Gilbert to give him a disbelieving look. Disbelieving, but very _very_ amused. "I'm what to you?"

"I don't know. Are you my friend? 'Cause I'm sure friends don't eat each other's faces."

"I remember Francis telling me about that time when you guys Frenched."

"GODDAMMIT. We were _drunk_." There was a pause, the albino's face twisting into a grimace. He scratched his hair again. "Or at least _I_ was drunk." Matthew started laughing and Gilbert's face blossomed into a nice shade of red. "Oh shut up! I was drunk and he looked like a hot girl!" He crossed his arms over his chest, looked away, something of a pout on his lips. "Can't blame me." He mumbled.

"You are such a dork."

"But I'm your dork."

A blush was on Canada's face with those words. "I, uh, um… I guess you are."

More nervous thumping of the hearts as nobody talks.

_Goddammit, this is so… gay._ Red eyes darted to the limp body of the blonde that decided it was okay to use Prussia as a pillow. Prussia watched those blue-violet eyes already fluttering close from the silence.

His breaks into a gentle smile, wrapping his arm across the thin shoulders and tugged the blanket up higher. "I love you." Gilbert mumbles quietly and he jerks when Matthew tilts his head up to look at him, a fond smile on his face. The arms wrapped around the German tighten and the Canadian looks away, the smile disappearing, out of Gilbert's sight. "Why do you have to be an Axis nation?"

Gilbert wonders what he meant by that.

He couldn't sleep and it wasn't because he couldn't find comfort in Matt's embrace, it was just that he had too much on his mind. Also didn't help that somebody might burst through that door at any second and he would need to hustle out of here A-S-A-P. He looked at the slumbering form; Matt's chest rising up and down to a steady beat, than out the window, thought it might be around one in the morning.

God, kicked out a party at ten o'clock, that must be a new record.

He shook his head, Gilbird flying off the sleeping polar bear's head to rest on his, and gently lowered Matthew onto the bed, tucked the boy in too. Gil quietly clapped his hands together, tried to look up to see Gilbird. "Well boy, guess we should get going." He muttered softly.

And then he went to inspect some of the contents left out of the boxes that littered Matt's suite. A playful smirk was on his lips as he picked up a little bottle, a maple leaf taped onto it. He tipped the bottle the side, watched the syrupy liquid move before placing it back onto Canada's desk. _Why the hell does he have maple syrup here?_ He looks at the bowl of half-eaten ramen and decides, '_I really don't want to know._'

The snooper moves the discarded stuff to the side, wakes up the computer, and squints against the brightness. _God is my computer really that old?_ He wonders, barely catching a glimpse of Gilbird standing on the edge of the desk, blinded by the light, and then tumbling off. _Luddy needs to buy me a new laptop. The awesome me can't keep using his hand-me-downs!_

He moves the mouse around, not sure of what the hell he actually wants to do besides use a computer. Maybe he should go check his blog right now? Or maybe he should be responsible and see what kind of work his boss has for him? PSH, yeah right, blog here he comes.

The movements are jerky, totally not used to using a wireless mouse. Gil bits his lip as he tries to control his hand's erratic movements and presses. _Click!_ Dammit, clicked on the wrong thing! This isn't what he was looking for! What the hell is thi—Oh? Is that his name?

He reads a bit, curious to why his name is there and that's when a cocky smirk came to his face. This was a _journal_, Matt's journal to be exact and there was his name, dropped in there multiple times. Most of them were just talking about him, how cocky he is and how he seems to be addicted to maple syrup. He snickers, feels a flicker of guilt, casts a glance at the peacefully sleeping figure, and scrolls all the way to the bottom.

He reads one last thing, a sweet '_I love Gilbert __Beilsch'_, and laughs to himself. Sure it wasn't finished, but it's the thought that counts. He types down the rest of his name, thinks a little bit, and quickly typed down an '_I love you too,'_ before scooping up Gilbird and scampering over to the window.

Gil paused by the window, one hand on the white frame, red eyes carefully watching Matthew sleeping. He looks away, nibbling on his bottom lip, and approaches the bed. He looks down at the sleeping figure, in the same position Matt was left in, and Gilbert presses a quick kiss to the blonde's forehead before hustling out of the room, his face rapidly heating up.

A pair of emerald eyes watched the whole entire thing from the little gap left by the door. Arthur closes the door, his eyebrows furrows, and he walks back to the lobby. _What to do? What to do…_


	9. Act Two, Scene Three

_AN: I should warn you, but I'm sure you already know, but I'm gonna do this anyways! It's been eating at me since I started this. Okay, there's a lot of historical inaccuracies and out of time things. They're just there for the sake of a story, okay? Anyways, sorry about the long wait. I had no idea what to write for this chapter. Haaa... 8D_

* * *

"Father! Father! You here?" Gilbert called out, stepping over the ledge while rolling up his sleeves, the humidity in the air bothering him. He looked down at his arms, stared at the pale scars from shrapnel and whatever else, tugged his sleeves back down. He walked farther and farther into the room, not minding the fact that he kept stepping all over the low-lying plants. He peered behind some tall-potted plants, didn't see the friendly wizened face. "Hey, old man Fritz, you here?" He called out again, pushing past some branches.

He let out a small grunt and socked whoever placed their hand on his shoulder right in the face. He instantly regretted it when he saw who it was. "Oh… I'm so sorry Sister. I didn't know it was you." He mumbled hastily, pulling the nun's hand off her face. Gilbert let out a hiss when he saw her cheek purpling already. Damn, he's going to have to go to confession for that.

"Oh it's okay Gilbert." She said, trying to laugh off the pain. She winced at the shock of pain in her jaw and tenderly traced her fingers along her jaw line. Yeah, that hurts. "I should know better than to get your attention from behind."

"I'm still sorry. People don't usually punch nuns…"

"Ah, it's nothing my boy. I heard you were looking for Fat—"

"Sister Maria, that's where you are! Mrs. Edman is looking for you." Both turned towards the direction of the voice. Gilbert's face absolutely just lit up as he jogged up to Father Fritz and gave him a bear hug, all the while mumbling about how long its been since he saw him. Sister Maria watched them for a split second, looking away and rolling her eyes. "Well, I'll be going. Mrs. Edman is such a finicky person." She highly doubted anyone heard her over Gilbert's excited rambling.

And indeed nobody noticed the old woman disappearing from the small plant house.

Fritz tried to keep up with Gilbert's fast pace of talking, the exaggerated hand movements that meant so much, and the different emotions that seemed to fly across the albino's face. But alas, he wasn't as young as he used to be and had no idea what was happening. Though he did hear the word 'marry…'

"Marry? Is this about Austria and Hungary again?" Honestly, he thought Prussia would be over them by now. Seriously, what used to be the upcoming marriage wasn't a very well kept secret. Though knowing Gilbert, he probably thought they were just rumors.

Ah such a hopeful boy. Too bad he lacks basic common sense.

"Marry? What the hell, I'm not marrying anybody." Gilbert said, the statement a simple fact. He stared at Father Fritz, red eyes scanning over the man's stature before shaking his head. "I think you spend too much time in here. All this humidity must have fu—messed up your brain." He lets out a little cough and looked away.

"The humidity messed up my brain? Prussia… you look like you've been out all night drinking." The old man confessed, moving over to the side and opening up a path into a small shelter. Gilbert could see two cups and a pitcher sitting on the table, a smile creeps onto his face, and he walks over to it. Fritz follows him and pulls out a chair before saying, "You _haven't_ been out all night drinking have you?"

"Nope." Gilbert takes a gulp of the drink, licks his lip to capture the lingering flavor left there. "I was talking with somebody."

"Is that Prussian-lingo for harassing somebody?"

Gilbert laughs before taking another swish of the drink, Old Man Fritiz's tea just as addicting as beer. Who would have thought that the great Prussia likes tea? Not Prussia himself. "Yeah, cause I'm definitely harassing you at this very moment Ol' Fritz." He sets his cup down onto the table, props his elbow up on the desk, and rests his head on his palm. "Kesese… actually, that's not what I wanted to talk about. It's something you know quite well…"

"Medicine?"

"Try again."

"Riddles?"

"One more time."

"… Marrying people?"

The white haired man took in a sharp breath, wasn't too sure if the friar was kidding or not. He rubbed his chin, his fingers running across the stubble (Goddammit, does he really have to shave every freakin' day?) before placing them onto the table. "I kind of… fell in love." He said, his expression very much like a child's caught stealing their sibling's toys. "It's um, with a guy though."

"Why do you think I know about falling in love so well? I only married once and she died."

"But it was an arranged marriage and you still had women lining up for your widow-y hand in marriage, but you didn't take any of them." Gilbert countered, a small smirk on his face. There was nothing in Fritz's life that he didn't know. The man spent more time with him than his own father after all. "Also, you were rather fond of that guy… I think his name was—"

He held up his hand to silence the Prussian's mouth. "Okay, okay. I get your point." He said. "But… this is pretty soon isn't it? Just your last visit you were talking about how beautiful Hunga—"

This time Prussia cut in, his pale face an odd shade of red. "Kesese, I really would like it if you didn't talk about that so openly." He warned, eying the man sitting across from him. Fritz got the message and crossed his heart. Gilbert relaxed, picked up his cup, and took another sip. "I really do love him though."

"How much?"

Gilbert didn't answer, just took another taste of his drink. Father Fritz nodded his head slowly, an action that showed just how old he really was. He took a long sip of the drink he prepared before letting out a sigh and setting the cup aside. He folded his hands. "What's the boy's name?"

"Matthew Williams."

"… Isn't that Canada? An Allied Forces member?"

Gilbert stayed quiet.

Fritz pressed on. "And aren't you an Axis Powers nation with your brother?"

Gilbert looked to the side, pushed his cup away. "Now do you see what my problem is?"

"I was never aware there was a problem until now."

He frowned, pushed back his white hair and held it there for a minute. He lets go, the hair bouncing back to its original position. He looked to his father figure, his frown growing even deeper. "I really want this to work." Gilbert confessed before looking down at his twitching hand, a nervous twitch.

Fritz watches him for a good minute. He sighs and gathers up the cups and the pitcher into his arms. "I really hope you know what you're doing, boy." He says as he walks over to the exit. He pauses by the walkthrough and looks over his shoulder at the other. "I'll see what I can do though."

"Thanks Ol' Fritz." Gilbert smiled, gets up from his chair to follow Fritz out. "Kesese… I'm not lying when I say that you don't know how glad that makes me."

The old man nods his head before an upcoming event catches him by surprise. "What are you going to do about the upcoming battle though?"

He hesitates, licks his lips and blinks once before answering. "I… I'll think of something." He shrugged, catches up to the other and takes the pitcher from Fritz's arm. He downs the remaining tea and licks his lip. "I'm the awesome kingdom of Prussia, of course I'll think of something."

Both laugh.


End file.
